


Men Doomed To Die

by AkiRah



Series: Hold The Sky [14]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair's coronation, Dark Ritual threesome, Multi, Murdering an Archdemon and the afterparty therein, The Battle of Denerim, The Blight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neria and her companions, the landsmeet settled, turn their attention and the army they've gathered to Redcliffe in a final push to end the Blight. There Neria discovers the reason why only a Grey Warden can end the blight and Morrigan hands her a loophole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. While Your Cliffs Are Still Red

Breakfast was taken quickly. Surana and Alistair sat beside one another but didn’t make eye contact. The soldiers mustered to begin the march to Redcliffe where they would prepare to face the darkspawn horde. Surana’s companions split up, each in charge of a squad. Leliana joined the clerics in administering rites to the soldiers who wanted them. Wynne left with Shale to the Circle to alert Irving that the time was coming. Oghren joined the main force, talking about his prowess and judging the troops to be subpar because they couldn’t out drink him. To Surana’s surprise, he seemed to be a hit. 

Alistair rode at the front with Eamon while Surana--with her books--rode in a cart, reading up on strategy and discussing with Riordan possible techniques to limit the spread of the blight within the ranks. Stanton rested his head and forepaws on her lap, trying to comfort the disquiet in her chest with his presence alone. 

A forward scout reported sounds of fighting in the village. Surana snapped orders even before it occurred to her that everyone _had_ to listen. “Alistair, take our forces and secure the castle. Morrigan, Wynne, Leliana, Zevran, Sten, I want you with me. A smaller force has better odds within the village itself.” She looked at Riordan. “I can’t feel the archdemon. Can you?” Riordan shook his head and an icy feeling dripped into Surana’s stomach. “We’ll deal with that later. Everyone move!” 

Alistair barked her commands in a louder voice and turned his horse so he passed close enough to stroke her temple with one gauntlet. “Come back to me.” 

She nodded and started down towards Redcliffe village with her small strike team. The village was overrun, but not yet lost. They followed the clang and shout of combat to where the militia, what was left of them, had cornered an ogre in the courtyard. Leliana and Morrigan provided cover while Zevran and Sten broke through the militia’s line to deal with the darkspawn head on. 

“Emissary!” 

“On it!” Surana shouted back. She whistled for Stanton and they charged the hurlock mage, teeth and staff and fang and fury. Surana turned her attention to the Chantry where the villagers would have taken shelter and summoned rain to smother the flames the darkspawn had started. 

An arrow barely missed her head and Surana missed Alistair desperately. She swallowed her fear. This was only the first fight without him, once he was king there would doubtlessly be others. She would still be a warden, afterall. 

“Courtyard secure!” 

“You’re still alive, Murdock?” Surana did her best to look more jovial than honestly surprised. 

“Yes, your ladyship.” 

“Can the militia hold this ground?” She twisted her hair into the bun she hadn’t had a chance to pin before the fighting started. “We need to reach the castle to regroup.” 

“Aye.” 

“When it looks safe enough move as many people as possible to the castle, sturdier walls are better.” She set a hand on Stanton’s head, healing the lacerations her faithful friend had received before moving out to collect her other comrades and continue a sweep of the village and then up to the castle. By some miracle (and doubtlessly a number of good scouts) most of the villagers had had a chance to evacuate before the darkspawn had arrived.

Eamon’s army was trying to clear the courtyard, but an ogre, larger than any she’d seen, was hurling rocks at their line. Surana dart forwards a paralysis spell charging in her fingers when something shiny caught the sun and landing, in the orge’s face. As she got closer she watched the warrior bury a sword in the monster’s eye and twist, scrambling brains and then riding the corpse as it fell. She got close enough as he pulled his sword free to recognize that it was Alistair. 

“What happened to staying out of harm’s way?” She demanded with a small frown, discharging her spell harmlessly at a training dummy. “Nice shot though.” 

“You know me,” Alistair cleaned the blighted blood off his weapon, “I get bored so easily.” His features fell back to serious. “How’s the village?” 

“Clear, for now. This doesn’t seem to be the main force, however. I can’t feel an archdemon.” 

Alistair’s frown deepened. “Neither can I. Eamon and Riordan are inside, we should talk with them.”

* * *

“What do you _mean_ the horde is headed to Denerim instead?” Surana snapped and then forcibly curtained her tongue before Eamon could give her a disapproving look. “Are you certain?” 

“They swung wide, it was assumed they were heading to Redcliffe, but the horde changed course, my lady.” The scout explained, shaking. Surana hoped it was that he was more nervous about the horde than he was about her. 

“Where did you see them?” Riordan asked, his tone much softer. 

He was older, more used to command. Surana would have been happy to let him take over, but he made no insistances and looked to her for her opinions and for orders. It was unsettling in some ways and comforting in others. 

The scout marked where he had seen the horde and Surana bit down on the inside of her cheek. “That puts them two days from Denerim.” She exhaled. “We have to leave immediately. Has word been sent to the capital?” 

“Yes, but--”

“A warning isn’t enough,” Surana nodded. “We have to march. A forced march won’t get us there in time but it’s the best we can do. Any sign of the archdemon?” 

“Yes, my lady. A huge bloody dragon at the head of the horde.” 

Fear dropped into her stomach. She remembered seeing it in the Deep Roads, the image still burned into the back of her mind, nestled in with the damnedable singing. She swallowed it as best she could and splayed her hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking. “Shit.” 

“The horde must be stopped,” Riordan told her, “but the archdemon is our true target. Only a Grey Warden can slay the archdemon.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Surana rolled her shoulders back. 

“We march,” Alistair looked over at Arl Eamon, the light from the candles deepening the shadows on his face, lending him a sternness that didn’t match the twenty years of life he’d had. “Arl Eamon, how soon can the army move?”

“By daybreak.” 

“Get them ready. I won’t let all those people die without giving them a chance.” 

Surana looked down at the map. “It’s lucky we sent word ahead to Orzammar and the Dalish. If someone leaves _now_ the mages will arrive at Denerim when we do. Teagan, can you--”

“Yes, my lady, our fastest rider.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Everyone, get what needs done done and get some sleep.” She straightened and tried to feel like a commander. “We march at dawn.” 

Most of the war council bowed and departed, heading to their individual tasks. Surana felt her knees threaten to give out and steadied herself against the table. Only Riordan and Alistair remained. Alistair set a hand on her back. “Are you alright lov--Neria?” 

“Terrified.” She told him honestly, pulling away from him and reaching back to undo her braid. “But this is what Wardens do. This is what we started a year ago.” 

“You should both eat something,” Riordan advised. “Then, if you will come speak with me before you retire? There are Grey Warden matters to discuss.” 

“Yes,” Surana nodded. “Of course.”

* * *

She met Alistair in Riordan’s rooms after enjoying a hearty, but quick meal taken with Leliana and Zevran laughing and Sten eating silently beside her. She tried not to think of it as “the eve of battle” as the “eve of battle” would be technically the day after tomorrow, but that did nothing to lift the haze of unease. She was careful to say no goodbyes, to encourage Oghren’s drinking and foul language because it amused the troops (and Wynne), but she was still a little grateful when she made her way alone up the stairwell to the second floor. 

Both Alistair and Riordan wore somber expressions and stood when she knocked and entered. From the wetness in Alistair’s eyes, she guessed they had been discussing Duncan. She gave him the warmest smile she could muster and hoped that someday looking at him would be less painful. 

“You’re here, good.” Riordan took a breath. “You are both new--” he looked at Alistair, “--relatively new, to the Grey Wardens. I need to know if you’ve been told how an archdemon is slain.” 

“You mean there’s more to it than just say, chopping off it’s head?” Alistair asked. 

Riordan sighed. “So it’s true. Duncan had not yet told you.” He hung his head briefly and then looked up at them both with sympathy. “Tell me, have you ever wondered _why_ the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?” 

Surana nodded. “Assuming it isn’t exaggeration, I would guess it has something to do with the taint. Like the fact that darkspawn blood won’t kill us . . . immediately, anyway.” The darkspawn blood was really, definitely, killing them.

“That is exactly what it involves.” Riordan began to pace, as if movement would make what he had to say less unpleasant. “The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn--”

“Or dragon,” Surana pointed out, unwilling to let him pass off a blighted high dragon as “just another darkspawn” after her encounter with the false Andraste outside of Haven. 

Riordan rewarded her commentary with a small smile and shake of his head. “But if anyone besides a Grey Warden does it, the slaying will not be enough. The archdemon’s essence will pass through the taint to the nearest blighted creature and be reborn. The dragon is therefore all but immortal.” 

“ _Fucking really_.” 

“But, if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden, its essence travels into the Grey Warden instead.” 

Surana’s eyes went wide as she pieced together what that meant. “That . . . doesn’t sound healthy.” 

Riordan shook his head. “No. A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed, but so is the Grey Warden.” 

Alistair stared at him. “So . . . the Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon . . . dies.” 

“Yes.” Riordan answered. “Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way.” 

Surana looked at the floor, studying the stone and reflecting that it was very similar to the stone in Kinloch Hold. This was why Duncan had taken her from the Tower. Because she would make a fine Grey Warden. Because she was loyal and she had had nothing to lose. 

“I’ll do it.” She raised her head. “I’ll take the final blow.” 

“Neria you can--”

“You’re going to be King, Alistair,” she turned to look at him. “You are our last resort. If I fail, by all means, the Blight _must_ be ended. But--”

Riordan set a hand on each other their shoulders. “It warms my heart to see such courage, but do not hurry so to sacrifice your life. If possible, the final blow should be mine. I’m the eldest and the taint will not spare me much longer. If I should fail, however, the task falls to you. We must end this blight here, or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that.” He pulled away. “But that’s enough for now. There will be much to do tomorrow and too little time to do it. I will let you both return to your rooms.” 

“One way or another, this ends soon,” Alistair said softly. 

“That is does, my friend. That it does.”


	2. The Chantry Greatly Disapproves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. This chapter is porn and comes with a story. I had installed the Equal Love Mod at one point and forgotten about it, like I do. This meant that when we got to the Dark Ritual, and I agreed it wasn't Alistair on the bed looking slightly terrified, it was Neria. Naturally my brain jumped immediately to "Dark Ritual Threesome" so that's what you get.

Alistair and Surana stood in the hallway for a long moment after Riordan’s door closed, staring at their feet. She chewed the inside of her cheek and then reached out and brushed her hand along Alistair’s. He caught her fingers in his and it gave her the courage to say, in a very small voice. “Sleep with me.” 

“What?” 

Surana cleared her throat, tried to ignore the fire in her cheeks and the terror in her chest. She raised her head and found his eyes, relieved that he was blushing too. “Sleep with me,” she said again. “Tonight. Before . . . there’s a sixty-six percent chance that _one_ of us is going to be dead in two days and it’s going to be me before I’ll let it be you and I just--” she exhaled and dropped her eyes. “If I’m dead, there’s no one to worry about your lover being an elvhen mage.” 

His hand curled more tightly around hers and he stepped into her, his other hand taking hers. When she looked up he kissed her, hands moving from hands to the small of her back to hold her close. “I’ll always love you,” he promised. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“You know,” he smiled at her, the effect ruined by a hint of moisture in the corner of his bright cedar eyes, “usually I’m the thick one. Yes it’s a yes.” He kissed her again, dropping his weight so he could lift her and walking towards her room, unable to see where they were going. He set her down outside the door and pressed her against the wood to kiss her while he twisted the doorknob. 

Someone had lit the fire. 

Alistair’s expression darkened immediately as he looked over Surana’s shoulder. She followed his eyes and flushed with embarassment to see Morrigan standing in front of the fire. 

“Do not be alarmed,” Morrigan turned her head briefly to acknowledge them before turning her attention back to the fire. “It is only I.” 

“Is everything alright, Morrigan?” Surana pushed the bedroom door closed. “Later? Alistair?” The Maker conspired against her. Finally she had the courage to take what she wanted, and Morrigan was having some sort of crisis. 

Morrigan’s crisis was obviously more important, but _Andraste’s ass_.

“Stay,” Morrigan turned fully and looked at Alistair, “this pertains to you both. I am here with a plan, a way out.” She stalked cat-like towards them. “I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed and I know _you_ ,” she looked at Surana, “well enough to know that it will likely be you. I am have come to tell you this does not need to be.” 

“What do you mean?” Alistair’s fingers curled more tightly around Surana’s, but rather than suspicion, she noted a trace of _hope_. Almost desperation. 

“I mean a way out, for all three of you. There need be no sacrifice. A ritual, performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night.” 

“Tell me more.” 

Surana couldn’t believe what was happening. Morrigan was suggesting a ritual, probably blood magic or something similar or there wouldn’t be nearly so much secrecy (unless she was just being dramatic which was _possible_ but unlikely) and Alistair, the ex-templar, was all ears. 

For her. 

Because Morrigan was suggesting a way to save _her_.

“What I propose is this,” Morrigan moved to the bed and settled on the edge. “Lay with me, here tonight. From our joining, a child will be conceived, bearing the taint. When the archdemon is slain, it will seek out the child like a beacon.” 

Alistair frowned and Surana nodded. 

“At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process.” 

“It sounds--”

“Are you certain it will work?” Alistair interrupted. “Is there any chance of the archdemon being reborn?” 

“I am certain,” Morrigan said, a small smile passed over her mouth. “This is what Flemeth intended when she sent me with you. She told me of the ritual and what I was to do with it. What is important is that I am offering it to you now. It will work and it will save your lives. You will both be spared. In return, I will conceive a child, one born with the soul of an Old God. After the battle, I will leave. You will not follow. Ever. The child is mine to raise as I wish.” 

“I’ll do it.” Alistair agreed. 

Surana looked from Morrigan to Alistair and squeezed his hand in hers. “I’ll leave you to be then.” She said, feeling decidedly off balance knowing that two of her dearest friends, and two of her most attractive friends, the prettiest woman alive and the man she was in love with, were going to have sex in order to save _her_ life. 

She was a little sad, more than a little aroused, and incredibly confused about the whole thing, honestly. 

“Stay.” Morrigan stood and reached out to Surana. “Be part of this, it will set Alistair’s mind at ease and as it is my gift to you, I would have you here. Together, we will make this last night something to remember. ” 

Both Alistair and Surana blushed deep red. 

Morrigan curled her fingers around Surana’s cheek and kissed her lightly, tongue tracing over Surana’s lips to coax her mouth open, teeth scraping softly over Surana’s lips when she yielded. She took a half step back and bumped against Alistair, heart rate starting to race as his hands settled on her hips. She could feel hesitation in his fingertips. 

Surana pulled away from Morrigan and turned in Alistair’s arms. She smiled at him, beet red and breathless, no more confident in what was happening than he was, but used to taking the lead after her last year of having the lead thrust at her. She came up on her toes and kissed him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She asked as she pulled back. 

 

“Yes,” Alistair nodded, swallowing, “and you’re here. That makes everything much easier.” 

“And here I thought we were going for _harder_.” 

Morrigan groaned, but it earned a huff of laughter from Alistair and that was all Surana had been hoping for. She tugged her robe off as she headed towards the bed, willing herself to remain calm. 

Calm lasted about a second before Morrigan came up behind her, one hand curved over Surana’s breast and the other trailing down the flat expanse of her belly to tease at her slit. Surana gasped and closed her eyes, leaning her head back and biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She opened her eyes and fixed them on Alistair where he’d come to kneel between her and the headboard. Awkward, perfect, red-in-the-face and barely breathing Alistair. 

There was a sting of guilt. Some part of her heart wishing those golden locks were yellow curls. Surana draped herself over Alistair’s lap and kissed the discrepancy away before she could linger on it. He was hard beneath her, pressing up into the slick heat that coated Morrigan’s fingers where they worked in her. 

With a practiced air, or at least one that looked practiced in comparison to the pair of virgins she was bedding, Morrigan carefully guided Alistair’s tip into Surana, her hand acting as a barrier to keep Alistair from jerking up as he groaned into Surana’s mouth. Surana rocked against him, vying to take him deeper, quicker, urged onward by the circular motions of Morrigan’s index finger on her clit and the witch’s mouth on the sensitive slope of her neck. 

Gently, Morrigan pried Surana and Alistair apart and bid Surana to turn around so her back was pressed flat against Alistair’s chest. Morrigan slid over Alistair’s erection and he shuddered beneath them, hands tight on Surana’s skin. She twisted her neck to taste the expletives and groans that bubbled past his lips as Morrigan rode him into the mattress. Alistair's hands moved to cup her breasts as he thrust up into Morrigan.

Surana traded breaths with him as he stuttered and came, teeth biting down hard on her lower lip. When Morrigan came, scant seconds later, it was quiet. She arched back, palms smoothing over Surana’s stomach and transferring easily to Alistair’s shoulders, pinning him in place as she rose off of him and bent to press a surprisingly tender kiss to his mouth. One that lasted and lingered in the eyes after they pulled apart.

“I’ll leave you two to one another,” Morrigan rose off the bed and gave Surana one last, small smile. Surana started to reach for her, urging her to stay out of polite instinct and a desire to make Morrigan feel wanted not merely used, but Morrigan shook her head once and dressed, departing the bedroom as quietly as a cat. She pulled the door closed behind her, leaving Surana and Alistair alone in the glow of the fireplace.

Surana slid off of Alistair’s sweat-slick chest and curled at his side, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, fingers traces swirls on his skin. 

“That was. . .” Alistair’s words were panted. He curved an arm around her to hold her close. 

“Nice?” Surana ventured. 

“Unexpected.” He twisted and propped himself up on his elbow, free hand cradling her jaw after he pushed her hair out of the way. “Did you . . . uh . . . finish?” 

Surana shook her head and propped herself up on his chest, reaching up to tuck her long red hair back. “That wasn’t the point.” 

Alistair pushed up and rolled her to her back, pressing smiling kisses along the slope of her neck. “Yes it was--is--you,” he cleared his throat, blushing to the roots of his burned gold hair. “You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” Surana teased with a small smile, running her fingers through his hair. Alistair sighed, eyes closing at her touch while he tilted his head back. She dropped one hand to curl it around his wrist and then press her palm to his before curling her fingers into the places between his. “You need the rest, Alistair.” She pulled his hand up to her mouth and kissed the tips of his fingers and then his mouth when he came close. “If we make it through the battle we can--” She cut herself off and the smile died on her mouth. 

If they made it through the battle, Alistair would be king. They really couldn’t.

“It’ll give me something to look forward too,” he settled back on the bed beside her and kissed her neck. “Can I--would it be alright if I stayed, er, here, tonight?” 

“I would like that,” she pressed against him and kissed his eyelids. “Sleep, Alistair. We’ll need all our strength.”


End file.
